Jacob Nyles:
Say what you will about yeerks, they're nobody's fool when it comes to technology. I didn't understand half the things Esplin did with my hands, but I knew the reason: To keep us alive.
To my inexperienced eye, it seemed like things were going pretty good for the first four hours. That should have been my first warning sign. Our luck sucks.
((Fifty-seven minutes until Z-space exit portal is reached. Z-space resonance field at 47.43% integrity)) Esplin reported grimly.
A shudder ran through the ship. I didn't ask what it was. If it was important, then Esplin would take care of it. Distracting it wouldn't help.
((()))
"We crashing yet?" I asked, trying to keep our footing.
((Yes))
My hands, guided by a small, three inch long parasite trapped in my brain, tried to input course correction and minute adjustments on half a dozen sub-systems of the Skrit Na raider, which would somehow slow us down, and keep us from burning up on atmospheric entry. Something exploded below and behind us, sounding muted and angry.
"What was that?" I asked, only vaguely curious.
((Starboard interlink coupling. Life support was fried anyway)) Esplin reassured me.
"Oh, so nothing important," I breezed. Keep it cool, Jacob. It's almost over.
((Impact in fifty-three seconds. Redirecting lateral guidance thrusters to initiate sustained counter-burn. Brace us)) Esplin said tersely. I hooked my left knee around a protruding pipe by the piloting station. A second later, the ship tossed violently as the uneven counter thrust was engaged. The noise was incredible!
((Impact in forty-eight seconds!)) Esplin screamed in my head, to be heard.
God, now would be a good time to show a little favor, I thought desperately.
((I hope your god is good on short notice)) Esplin told me pessimistically.
"Why?!" I shouted.
((Because our trajectory took us over the continent. Pray for a very large lake, or some other body of fluid)) Esplin told me, distracted.
We were decelerating rapidly. The question; was it enough?
((Reversing polarity on the tractor beam, brace us!)) Esplin warned. The damned, devilishly clever little slug powered up the tractor beam, and turned it into a pushing beam. We were skimming only twenty meters above the grassy terrain, headed for a knobbly tree-line. When Esplin engaged the tractor beam, we popped up from the surface another ten meters, barely clearing the first of the "trees."
For about ten seconds, everything seemed, okay, actually. Precarious as hell, but okay. Then something exploded beneath us.
((The tractor beam power matrix overloaded from the reversed polarity)) Esplin snapped.
Then we dipped, and the hull started catching on the weird, fungus-like trees. It felt like I was standing on a giant drum-head during a Twisted Sister concert.
Esplin shouted something about structural integrity, and then we hit something hard, and everything turned off, like a switch was flipped. Instantly.
Esplin 1894:
Jacob was unconscious. That's not good. The last thing I saw through his eyes was a sudden expanse of water.
I had to wait until Jacob regained consciousness before I would be able to see anything else. Breathing in aquatic environments was not one of Jacob's many talents.
Water splashed on Jacob's face. It was cold, wet, and we breathed some of it in. This revived Jacob, instantly, but something was wrong. He had no coordination, and his eyes weren't tracking together. His thoughts were fuzzy, and muddled. He could dimly perceive pain around his head, and I thought I recognized the smell of his metallic blood. Jacob was hurt, but I couldn't tell how badly… I could only learn what his body could tell me.
((Jacob!)) I shouted, trying to get his attention, but he wasn't "playing with a full deck" yet. From the blurry, nightmarish glimpses I was getting from his fluttering eyes, we were in a nightmare. Conduits sparked, illuminating the rapidly filling bridge, dark water pouring in through a breach in the anterior emergency air-lock. The air would escape through that hole, there would be no possibility of an air-pocket being trapped.
Besides, the longer we waited, the more the cold water would sap us, and the deeper we would sink. If we wanted to live, we had to leave, now.
"Jacob, we have to leave!" I shouted. It took me a moment to realize I had spoken, out loud. I frowned, and so did Jacob. With growing excitement, I clenched my fist, and so did Jacob.
It was up to me. Calmly, I staggered to the cold torrent, my control of Jacob made tenuous by his addled mental state. Some of the connections were missing, or absent. I hyperventilated deliberately as the water continued to pour in. I had to wait until the bridge finished filling. I could not force my way out while water was pouring in. The water crept up past my chin, and I took one last, deep breath. I clamped down on the body's excitement, keeping the heart-rate as low as I could. The surge of water against our chest slowed to a trickle. Now. I opened our eyes, and located the hole in the ceiling. I pushed off from the deck, and through the ragged rent in the hull, roughly four meters long, and half a meter wide. Part-way out, something snagged, and I fought down panic. Calmly, I reached back, and found the problem: Jacob's pack, the fabric had snagged on the rough, rapidly cooled metal. I eased forward, and the pack slipped off the spur of metal. I pushed us all the way out, into the darkness, and kicked Jacob's strong legs. I gloried in the sensation of having a body, basking in the strong pulls of the arms, the sensation of lactic acid that began slowly, but continued to build. We swam up through the darkness, which began to brighten, slowly, from black, to dark green. Eventually, when Jacob's lungs were burning, I could see the surface, rippling above us. Ten meters. Jacob's body felt like it was frozen, and on fire at the same time. Nine meters. Eight.
I could do this. Seven. My limbs moved remotely, weakly, the strength gone. Six.
Black spots danced in our eyes, and the edges began to darken. Five.
Jacob was almost spent, his artificially enhanced endurance reaching its limits. Four.
((Jacob, help me!)) I screamed, trying to force us up by will alone. Nothing. Jacob's mind was still scrambled. He couldn't help.
I kicked again, weakly, and we rose a quarter meter. I pulled our arms down, cupping the water in our palms. We rose half a meter.
Come on! Three. The lack of oxygen began to affect me as well. I had my own supply, of sorts, but it would be depleted quickly. I could feel parts of me, spread over non-critical sections of Jacob's brain begin to shut down, shunting nutrients to my "core." This only bought me a few seconds.
Fuzzily, I wondered why I was fighting so hard. Funny. I didn't even feel the cold anymore. Thoughts slipped through me, mine or Jacobs, I didn't know. Was there a difference?
Jacob Nyles:
I was lying on a weird beach, I think. I'm pretty sure it could be called a beach… even if the "sand" was made of something that felt like… well, you know those foam pellets, in bean-bag chairs? It was like that… but heavier. I tried to sit up. I wiggled, that was all. Like a noodle. I tried to move again, with the same result. Have you ever woken up, on your face, and both of your arms have fallen asleep? Kind of hard to turn over…
I felt another spark of awareness begin to stir in the back of my head, like someone's breath on my neck.
((Jacob?))
"Yes?" I asked.
((Are we dead?))
"Death doesn't hurt this bad," I grumbled.
((Oh))
On my fourth attempt, I managed to roll onto my side. "How did we go from crashing, to lying on a beach?" I asked idly.
((You … weren't very cognizant, after the crash. I swam us to the surface)) Esplin said guiltily.
I knew I should feel alarm, but that was too much effort at the moment.
"You think I'm going to yell at you for saving us?" I asked wearily, "because I won't."
((You're too tired right now. You'll yell later)) Esplin answered.
"Probably," I admitted.
((Also, I smelled your blood, right after the crash. You might want to check for injuries))
"Yes mom," I groaned, falling on my favorite crutch: sarcasm.
((You're cold too. Might want to get out of these wet clothes before you kill both of us))
"You just want to get me naked," I suggested, wearily fumbling with the straps of the Minnie-mouse backpack.
((That too))
I had the shredded shirt off before I realized Esplin had made a joke. It was actually kind of funny too. I laughed, and it hurt, but I laughed anyway.
((It wasn't that humorous, stop laughing)) Esplin told me, annoyed. That simply made it funnier. My ribs screamed in protest as I laughed.
((Your pain is my pain, remember?)) Esplin snapped. That sobered me.
"Sorry."
((Check your ribs. I think a few on your left side might be broken))
"Terrific."
I gently probed them, and one of the floating ribs flared with angry fire, but the others just felt bruised. I checked the rest of me. There was a mean gash on the back of my head, a few cuts on my hands, and somehow, I'd managed to tear the fingernail off my right middle finger, which stung.
"Time for some Boy-scout-ery," I mumbled. The top half of my flightsuit was a lost cause, but, the fabric was still fairly sturdy, what scraps remained. I used some of it to pad my headwound, and another strip to tie it in place. I probably looked ridiculous.
((Don't be a child. The bleeding is under control now))
"But if I can't look stylish doing it, what's the point?" I argued.
Esplin stepped back in my head, uneasy, and scrutinized me.
((You may have hit your head harder than I first thought))
I used the rest of my "shirt" to wrap up my broken rib, tying it tightly enough to immobilize it… which didn't feel good at all.
During this period of generally violent unwellness, I realized the mottled rock I had been staring at for the last seven minutes was bleeding. Ergo, not a rock. Boulder would be a better description. Then it stood up. It looked… hell, I don't know. It had a large bulgy body, with tentacle / arms that ended in hands. It had a pebbled, mottled color that matched the kaleidoscope of colors among the shroom-trees. It looked like a cross between a monkey and an octopus… but the size of a minivan. It was bleeding from a jagged, bloody section on its rump/head. Then we fell asleep again.
((()))
"We need a fire," I argued grimly, gathering the weird vegetation into a pile. It felt like plastic foam, but smelled like peach rinds.
((The emergency blanket will suffice, a fire can be seen for miles—))
"Overruled. We need a fire. Do you remember that weird animal we saw a few hours ago?" I said.
((The herbivore? I doubt a flaming stick will be needed to keep so dangerous a creature at bay.)) Esplin said tartly.
"Something took a good bite out of its ass, Esplin. It was the size of a goddamned buffalo."
((I fail to see the relevance—))
"Something else in this area eats the herbivores, perhaps several somethings. I'd rather have a nice fire, in addition to the Dracon beam."
Esplin cut my argument apart, and scrutinized it dispassionately. Eventually she came to the conclusion I had jumped to, upon seeing the fresh bite and claw marks on the haunch of the herbivore.
((Your argument has… merit…)) Esplin allowed.
"Glad you approve."
((We survived the mist-world)) Esplin said confidently.
That brought back things… things best left forgotten.
"Let's not think about that…" I suggested quietly. A few of the nastier bits flashed through my head before I could think about something else.
((Sorry))
((()))
That night, something came. I couldn't see it, even with my eyes, and the fire. I picked up one of the baseball-sized rocks, collected earlier. I tracked the slithering noise, and hurled the stone. It hit something, which hissed angrily, like a hundred snakes.
"How long is the day-night cycle?" I asked Esplin. She flipped back through our memories, to the bridge of the Skrit Na raider, specifically, the navigation computer.
((The entire rotation takes eighteen hours, so about six hours of darkness))
"Terrific."
((Keep it away for another four hours))
"Working on it,"
((()))
In the morning light, the thing retreated, before I could really get a look at it. I knew one thing though, when night fell, it would be back.
"So, hypothetically, where would an Andalite base be?" I asked. Esplin shrugged helplessly in my head, ((The Skrit Na only detected energy emissions. They didn't triangulate the base's location. It could be anywhere, and it won't be visible))
"That is just fantastic," I complained, scrutinizing the area around the campsite. Something had flattened the moss/grass stuff in a ring around the campsite, like a big snake, or something. I put a pink rock down on a flat blue rock, and gave it a smack. The pink rock spun wildly, then came to a halt, the tapering point facing off into the mushroom jungle. "Well, let's go that way, until dark," I said.
((Such a scientific approach. It amazes me that your species does not yet possess deep-space capability)) Esplin commented darkly.
"No, but we've got Star Trek," I said smugly.
((If any other species devoted as much time and energy to escaping their pitiful reality through fiction, they would have been conquered or destroyed centuries ago. Only your isolated position in the galaxy has saved you from this))
"Yes, master," I chimed, rolling the thermal blanket up, and sticking it into my backpack. The camp was now officially broken down.
((And that backpack is still hideous)) Esplin sniffed.
"Why this hatred for poor Minnie? What did she ever do to you?" I asked.
Esplin 1894:
I sat in the back of Jacob's head, miserably, as we romped through the alien foliage. He was having fun. I… was not. The humidity declined the farther from the lake we traveled, but the temperature was also dropping. The water of the lake was cold, however, so the reasons for this where unknown to me, and without a decent hand-scanner, I would likely never know the precise reason for this phenomena. I did have a theory, however.
The fungus based vegetation was producing the heat, but required moisture to do so. With less moisture, came less heat.
I acknowledge that it was a rather simple, and crude hypothesis, but without scientific instrumentation, there was no way to prove, or disprove it.
Jacob didn't overly mind the chill, but I was made of different "stuff." He could ignore it, I could not.
((At least get the blanket out)) I complained.
"Cold, little slug?" Jacob teased, stopping to languorously stretch, losing additional body heat in the process, ((Yes, I am)) I snapped.
"Fine, if it'll make you happy…" Jacob grumbled, pulling the thermal blanket out, and wrapped it loosely around his chest before slipping the backpack on over it, to hold it in place.
((Thank you)) I said acidly.
"You're worse than my ex-girlfriend," Jacob complained, "nothing was ever good enough for her, but at least she said thank you like she meant it… even if she didn't."
((I've seen the memories you're referring to, and I am nothing like her)) I argued.
"Oh? Enlighten me. How are you two such complete opposites?" Jacob goaded.
I dimly perceived that he was trying to distract me; much like one keeps a needy child distracted and entertained.
((The greatest difference? I have none of her personal insecurities. I am what I am. I have no need to project my fear of inadequacy by making demands upon my sexual partner)) I pointed out smugly.
"I speak mannish, not girl. Lay it out in words small enough for my Y chromosome to understand."
((Very well. Courtney was terrified that you'd leave her for a prettier girl, or one with larger cleavage))
"Courtney was a drop-dead ringer though, why would she—"
((This is pathetic. I'm not even your species, and you need dating tips from me?))
"Hey, girls aren't quite sane," Jacob argued.
((No, you're just too dense to see their reasoning)) I retorted, annoyed. Couldn't he see? I could clearly understand the reasoning behind Courtney's actions. It was weak, yes, but there had been "method" to her apparent "madness." Unfortunately, she did not understand Jacob very well at all. The tighter she tried to hold on to him, the stiffer his resistance became.
I had a sudden flash of insight, a burst of understanding. One of Jacob's old memories that had confounded me suddenly made a small amount of sense. It was a poster, from his high school. He had seen it one day, and it had made a very strong impression on him. The artwork was crude, little more than a child's crayon scribbling… but it was of a butterfly, fluttering out of an open jar. Beneath it had been written:
"If you love something, you must set it free"
It had been a protest poster of one kind or another, for some random civil activist movement. That part of the memory was blurred, so that only the poster remained.
I pondered the poster heavily, drawing uncomfortable parallels between my situation and other events in Jacob's life.
"You know what you need, Esplin?" Jacob suddenly said.
((What?)) I asked cautiously.
"You need a kitten," Jacob smugly assured me.
((A… kitten…)) I echoed.
"Yes! Think about it! Kittens spread happiness, like the opposites of rats with bubonic plague… only, it's the warm fuzzies plague!" he said enthusiastically.
((What about Aunt Bernice? She loathed cats))
"Overruled, she was a complete hag," Jacob disagreed.
((She just didn't let you get away with anything))
"That too."
((And being violently allergic to cats had nothing to do with it))
"I think that was just for show," Jacob confided.
((You lie to yourselves almost as much as each other)) I sighed.
((()))
That night it rained. Jacob tried to keep the fire going, he really did, but within half an hour, the blaze sputtered, and died. In the darkness, something came for us. Jacob had his flashlight, and the Dracon beam out, but he was reluctant to use either tool, since there was no way to replenish them.
In that terrible darkness, we could hear the steady slithering noise of something approaching. Jacob's heart was beating like a "jackhammer." He was coiled, ready to fight, or run. Jacob being Jacob, he was more inclined to the former. For half a minute, there was silence, and the tension built. Finally, Jacob couldn't take it, and he flicked his flashlight on. In that light hundreds of eyes glinted at us in the darkness. Primal instincts from deep within Jacob stirred… from a time when his ancestors painted caves, and stood watch around fires, fighting things in the darkness. I suddenly understood his need for fire.
"What are you waiting for?!" Jacob snarled. The dying flashlight could do little more than illuminate the eyes of the creature, or creatures. The body remained cloaked in shadows.
Jacob raised the Dracon beam, and fired at one of the eyes. The lance of red light briefly illuminated something terrible. The creature shrilled in pain, and Jacob fired again. This time, I discerned what we were facing. It was like a snake, but covered in tentacles, each with an eye… and a serrated mouth on the end.
((Run))
((()))
I recognized the sound, above the sounds of us crashing through foliage, ((Atmospheric engines))
"Isn't that good? Yay, we're saved?" Jacob asked.
((More like yay we're going to be executed)) I replied.
"For what?"
((Espionage))
Jacob glowered at me, but I shrugged,
((You have a yeerk in your head. We're on a planet where the Andalites just happen to be conducting top-secret research. What would you think?))
"Point taken, but how are we going to get off this planet?"
((Simple. We need to find the base, sneak in, and steal a ship))
"That's simple?" Jacob complained.
((or we can live in the "shroom-jungle" until something eats us, or you die of old age))
For a single, terrifying second, he considered doing just that.
"How are we going to find the base though?" Jacob asked again.
((Well… I might have a plan…)) I hedged.
Jacob Nyles:
Esplin showed me how to reconfigure the short-range communications relay to emulate a damaged distress beacon, of Hawjabran origin. With the tools in my pack, it was actually pretty simple. The differences were based on the length of the transmitted pulses, the specific carrier frequency used, and the oscillating pattern of pulse strength. I jury-rigged one of the spare Dracon beam power cells into the transmitter, to boost signal strength. It would quickly deplete the cell, mimicking a damaged transmitter as the signal strength decreased. Esplin was actually quite pleased with herself.
"So, once they land, how am I supposed to sneak past people who have 360 degree vision?" I asked.
((You don't. Your vessel crashed, while running a routine sweep of the system. You swam to shore. Three days later, the yeerk in your head died, leaving you alone, on an alien world. You are confused, scared, and angry. You activated the distress call, to bring the yeerks to you, where you had a less than intelligent scheme to get on board and go down in a blaze of glory, killing every yeerk you could get your hands on))
I mulled over this cover story. It sounded a lot like me. "Wait, can't they tell you're in my head?" I asked.
Esplin shrugged, ((Most handscanners can't detect the minute variations in brain activity, which signal infestation, especially against a host's normal brain activity. Far simpler to wait three days, and cheaper too))
"So if they don't wait three days, then what?" I asked.
((Unless they've taken base-line readings on the host prior to infestation, there's no way they can detect me… now, they might pick up the kandrona in your system, but that's only if they run a complete, in depth scan. Kandrona is a rare substance, and hard to scan for, since the ionization from the scanner usually forces it to decay into its base particles))
I considered the plan. I liked the plan.
Thus, it must be a bad plan.
But we did it anyway.
((()))
I sat in the clearing, the Dracon beam slipped into the cargo pocket on my pants. The transmitter sat beside me, and after the first hour, I pulled out the book from its plastic baggie, and flipped it open.
((Beauty and the Beast?)) Esplin asked, nonplussed.
((It's a timeless classic)) I protested silently.
((And it's unabridged…)) Esplin continued, annoyed. She couldn't read it any better than I could, for obvious reasons. That didn't keep me from trying. Eventually, Esplin joined in, offering possible suggestions for the meaning of archaic phrases. It almost became a game, trying to decipher the intent behind the words.
((This Gaston is the hero?)) Esplin asked.
((Depends on how you look at it))
((The author has clearly cast him as the protagonist. He is successful, handsome, and a competent warrior, by the author's reckoning. The Beast has done unkind things to Belle, and is holding her prisoner. He must be the antagonist)) Esplin stated.
((Not everything is black and white)) I replied cryptically. Esplin tried to peek at my memories, but I kept her out.
((Nope. I'm not letting you know how it ends. You'll just have to read it too, and draw your own conclusions)) I said smugly.
((You are impossible)) Esplin complained.
((Perhaps)) I echoed loftily.
((()))
Night was starting to fall and The Creeper was back.
"Hello, bastard. Miss me?" I asked conversationally. The monster approached warily. It remembered the sting of my weapon.
"Let's resume where we left off last night," I suggested, and opened fire. The monster screamed and reared back, revealing its terrifying size, and I continued to calmly do my damndest to dismember it. If nothing else, the shooting might get the Andalites attention. After a few minutes, the scorched and shriveled thing retreated back into the night keening softly, sounding almost like a child… but I wasn't fooled, and felt no pity.
I checked the charge on my weapon. 14%.
A spotlight flared to life, illuminating me. I raised a hand to shield my eyes… but I could still make out the outline of the craft.
((Is that…)) I trailed off, fear coursing through me.
((Yes)) Esplin answered grimly, ((It's a yeerk craft))
((Well, I guess it's not a cover story anymore)) I said angrily.
((Um, Jacob… don't let them take me back… the things they will do to me…)) Esplin trailed off fearfully.
((Just close your eyes. I'll take care of this)) I promised.
I could feel Esplin rolling her figurative eyes at me. I waved enthusiastically to the yeerk ship, which slowly set down. It was some sort of scout ship. A hatch opened, and a
Hork-bajir stepped out, panning his Dracon beam over the clearing. He shouted at me in galard, and I laughed, walking forward.
"It's about time someone came to get me! I'm on my third day! You don't have a pool onboard, do you?" I asked tightly. The Hork-bajir nodded, and gestured for me to board, quickly. I hopped inside, and the hatch sealed.
((Jacob, this isn't a yeerk vessel)) Esplin suddenly said, alarmed.
Ah… clever bastards.
((Time to put my acting skills to the test))
I smiled and nodded to the Hork-bajir, "Lead on," I said. The alien turned, and as it did, I kicked the back of its knee. There are many differences in anatomy, but a knee is a basic hinge, and behaves the same, regardless of species. I made a clumsy grab for the Dracon beam in its hand, somehow managing to knock the thing out of reach instead, "Damn it! Die yeerk! Die!" I screamed, pounding at the Hork-bajir with my fists, trying to draw my own Dracon beam. The hork-bajir saw it, and struck back, knocking the weapon from my grip. I landed a hefty blow on its throat, making it gag. Then something hit me like a load of bricks, and I collapsed.
